


holding my breath (until i know you’re alright)

by modernlifehistorian



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: As it should be, End scene of 2x07, F/M, Fix-it fic, Mrs. Sherlock Holmes, The ideal universe where Jessica is not there to screw everything up, canon kinda, i didn’t mean to write this, just no jessica, little angst at first then some sweet fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-02 19:48:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14552214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/modernlifehistorian/pseuds/modernlifehistorian
Summary: This isn’t a weight anyone was meant to carry. Time is a burden no one understands until they get to hold it in their hands, until they allow themselves to become bigger than the abstract concept for just a moment...





	holding my breath (until i know you’re alright)

**Author's Note:**

> For my goats and pandas. Thanks, Laura, for your inspiration.

Wyatt finds her sitting on the arm of one of the shitty couches, staring into an emptiness only she can see. Glancing down at the open laptop, he is greeted with a Wikipedia entry on Grace Humiston. A woman who became so much more than an under appreciated cop, and even as he tries to spark life into her tired shoulders by acknowledging this, it seems he just pushes her further towards the edge of a hopeless oblivion. It isn’t about Grace. It’s about Alice. The woman history has now forgotten. He knows that if he doesn’t step in to hold onto her, she will lose herself in the vacancy. 

“She was supposed to do so much for history, Wyatt, and now I’m the only one that’s going to remember her. I know we technically won this round, but it still feels like we lost.” This isn’t a weight anyone was meant to carry. Time is a burden no one understands until they get to hold it in their hands, until they allow themselves to become bigger than the abstract concept for just a moment... before it turns around and reminds them that they can fiddle with the strings of fate all they want, everyone still comes with an expiration date. Some people aren’t even that lucky when time is raped in this way. Some people never get a chance. Like Alice. Like  _ Amy.  _ He knows that’s where Lucy’s mind has gone. The suffragette who might as well have suffered the same fate as her beloved sister. She’s unweaving and he has to stop her.

“You’re not the only one.”

He just let his hands run down her arms. She reaches one hand up to cover his, and looks up at him over her shoulder, giving him a sad smile. She had registered the concern in his eyes and offers the smile to reassure him that yes she’s sad, the weight of the knowledge of a forgotten history was a lot to bear for a historian, but she’ll be okay because he’s there. And so long as they have each other everything will be okay. She wraps her hand around his wrist and pulls that arm around her like a he is her only blanket in this freezing bunker, and he follows her lead, settling himself down behind her and wrapping his other arm around her middle. She leans her head into his chest, and he rests his head atop hers. His thumb on the hand she had pulled across her shoulders begins to rub gentle circles into her skin, trying to relieve the tension he feels there. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, something so innocent that she begins to feel the stress of the world melting away, and then there is only them. In a time before Hollywood she would be so content to remain here, just in his arms, and not to say she doesn’t love it now, she does. She loves it. She loves him. But she now has permission to take a little more, so she turns her head and glances up at him through thick lashes, allowing him the moment to read her emotions through her eyes like he knew to do so well. He throws her one of his one-of-a-kind Wyatt Logan smirks, but in these moments, the small twitch of his lips is different. A typical Wyatt Logan smirk comes after a sassy, or, as of late, suggestive comment which would leave her blushing and feeling a tad scandalized and even more turned on. But in a moment like this while he lifts one half of his mouth just so, his eyes don’t hold mischief. No, they were filled with an undeniable love that steals her breath away.

A crime she happily falls victim to.

The words haven’t left either of their lips yet, but they know it. It was said in so many more ways than just words. It was said in the way he looked at her when she was in the most glamorous gowns history could offer, and even more so when she had just woken up, insane, untameable curly bed headed, bare-faced, and open-hearted. It was said in the way she let him win when they played chess (he had some natural skill, sure, but she had been playing since before she picked up her first history book). It was said in the way he had her coffee made just the way she preferred before she was out of their room. It was said in every look, in every breath, in every touch they shared. They were the time-traveling duo who didn’t need words. Words could be misunderstood, mistaken, and fail to reach the depth of their intended meaning. Wyatt knows this better than most. The moment he had tried to convey Lucy’s unfathomable beauty by calling her “not hideous” does come to mind. But there was nothing mistaken in the way his rough hands caressed her skin, in the way her hand would find his when he needed to calm down, in the way he would massage gently into her shoulders as he was doing now when he knows she is carrying the weight of what had been and what now is on her slim shoulders, and if he doesn’t physically lift it off of her, he knows she will carry it alone forever. Her strength was something he will never comprehend. How this small woman surpasses the power and will of himself, of every man he has ever fought with, he will never know. She is the stuff of legends, what the most trained soldier can only dream of being, Yet despite all that, he will not let her carry such a burdensome weight forever. He would take it all if she wasn’t so damn stubborn to cling on to some of it, but he will take all she offers. They are partners. Lucy and Wyatt. Logan and Preston. No more being alone.

She leans up just enough for him to meet her halfway, their lips folding together like the waves and the shore, but the tides are calm, slow, tender, yet still unrelenting. He breaths hope into her veins and renews the life of her weary soul. It is the least he can do in return of all she has done for him. After a moment she pulls back and nestles her nose into the crook of his neck, breathing him in.

“Wyatt, who am I if I can’t protect history?” The words are said as a breath so faint he can hardly hear it. “Protect it the way I was supposed to in the beginning? It seems like every time we go back to save history, we somehow screw it up more than it already was.” He can feel her beginning to flounder in the rivers of uncertainty. She’s beginning to doubt her worth, her place, her purpose. Like she had when she was drowning in the actual river. The one that nearly took her from the world. From him. And it’s now his turn to be the one to dive in and save her from herself. Words. He has to use words this time. Goodness knows words aren’t exactly his strong suit, but he sure as hell will try if it is to bring her even the slightest bit of comfort.

“You’re Lucy Preston.” He desperately hope she understands what he means. The depth of her he is trying to portray. He knows if he says more words than his foot will end up in his mouth and ruin it. She’s the woman held knives to Nazi’s, who tried to fight a terrorist to protect Ulysses S Grant, who made James Bond fall in love (before Wyatt even had had the chance to), who wrote the letter that created his home, who tricked Flynn and Rittenhouse in order to save him, who helped saved the moon landing, who saved him more times than he can count, in more ways than she would ever realize. The woman who was a spy, a cigarette girl, a bank robber, a Hollywood starlet. The love of his life. He knew it. He hopes she does too. “And that’s pretty damn good.” He must have succeeded because she just nuzzles further into his neck and he can feel the smile across her lips; he tightens his hold on her.

“Thank you. For getting me over the hump,” she whispers. “Again.”

“Sure thing.” He lifts her chin so he can glance into the limitless soul behind her golden eyes. “Ma’am.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So this was totally an accident. I was trying to write a response to my beautiful pandamate’s thoughts on this final scene from 2x07 when Wyatt reaches out to her and how it felt so natural and intimate, and I couldn’t help but think of how this scene would’ve gone is that home-wrecker hadn’t entered the picture. (I’m not a fan of Jessica. Sorry not sorry.) Hope y’all enjoyed! Leave a comment to make a writer smile :)


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